


Catch Me (If You Can)

by NikaylaSarae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fainting, Religion Mention, Sick!Remy, Sickness, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae
Summary: Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t getsick.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted to my Tumblr account @stillebesat. 
> 
> December Drabbles Day 17

He tried to push open a pull door. That’s how Remy knew he was in trouble. 

“Gurl. Seriously?” He rasped, wincing at how his voice sounded like he’d been stranded in the Sahara Desert for twelve years. 

That wasn’t good. 

He needed to sound perfect. Perfectly uncaringly carefree that is. No one needed him sick. No siree. No. Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get _sick_.

The fact that the words ‘PULL’ were dancing right in front of his bloodshot eyes and he’d still tried to push open the freaking door was beside the point. 

Remy swallowed in a failed attempt to soothe the fire burning his throat to a crisp as he drew up his flagging energy to pull open said door. Pushing would have been so much easier. Taken less energy. Energy Remy was barely managing to keep above empty at the moment. No, if the cool glass door had only allowed him to let his weight fall against it in order to gain access into the local cafe that the interwebs claimed had a cure-all chicken based chili that could fix any illness within the hour, they both would have been much better off. 

Hopefully this was more of a fifteen minute cure. Remy would be spending the last of his money on this soup. He didn’t have an hour to feel better. Not after being laid up in his closet sized bedroom for the past two days with nothing but water in his apartment. He had places to be, a midterm exam to nail and a delightful after party to attend.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Remy walked-he did not stagger!-inside and paused to take in the place as the first nauseating wift of eggs and bacon hit his nose.

Quaint. 

That was the first word that came to his spinning mind. A quaint little cafe that practically screamed fifties country diner. Warm. Inviting. Probably run by a white-haired grandmother who adopted all the college kids as her precious grandchildren and piled their plates high with food to ensure that they got a ‘proper meal.’ 

At least that’s what he thought normal grandmothers did. His old hag had lived off of bread and butter for so long Remy doubted the creature masquerading as his granny knew other food existed. She certainly hadn’t when he’d been forced to stay weekends there as a kid. 

Focus.

Remy tugged at the collar of his jacket, already feeling sweat running down his back and prickling on his forehead. Too Warm. Grandma needed to turn on the AC. 

Focus.

There were far more of his peers hanging out here than he’d expected, doubling vision to be ignored, and he did not want to make a fool of himself by throwing up two steps inside the building. 

Remy took a shallow breath to avoid smelling more eggs. This soup better be heaven sent, because if it smelt anything like whatever was currently cooking...he doubted he would be able to keep it down.

“--lp you?” 

Remy blinked, lowering his sunglasses as he turned to the singular cadentic voice that cut through the buzzing in his head and promptly forgot that his lungs worked. 

If the soup wasn’t angelic, the help certainly was. 

Tall, lithe, with sharp sapphire eyes accentuated perfectly by a pair of glasses. The man standing at the counter was like the handsome stranger one meets in a romcom. That or one of those cherubic angels -minus the tropey golden locks- he’d been forced to stare at whenever the old hag had dragged him to church.

Remy pushed his shades back up, hiding his bloodshot eyes. What sort of deal with God had this Grandma made to have such a dark haired handsome glass of yesness working for her?

The man raised a singular perfect eyebrow. “Can I help you?” He repeated in that same melodious voice.

Remy nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak without sounding like a harpy in the face of such a wonderful tone. 

Focus.

First approach. 

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Remy sauntered -he did not sway not at all, he was in perfect control of his balance thank you- up to the counter and leaned against it, offering his most dazzling smile to the man. 

Moment of truth.

“Hey, honeycakes.” He said keeping his tone low to prevent the rasp in his voice from being heard. “Where’s your Halo? Cus you, my dear, are quite the Angel.” 

Nailed it.

The man pursed his lips in a thin line, his head moving in the slightest of shakes. “Unfortunately, we’re out of honey cakes, sir.” He said, tilting his head to the display of desserts in the glass next to him. “But our triple death by chocolate cake will send you,” his hands moved to form air quotations -who did that anymore?- “over the edge.” 

Ooo was that a threat or an invitation? Remy flashed another smile, tugging at the collar of his jacket. So warm in here. “So long as you’re there to catch me, Honeybee. I’ll gladly leap over any edge for you.”

The man adjusted his black rimmed glasses, moving to the register. “So you want the cake then? That’ll be $3.58. For here or to go?” 

Seriously? Remy gaped before clicking his tongue in exasperation and straightened, only to grab the counter to keep himself from falling backwards as his legs nearly buckled. 

Focus Darlin. Get in. Get out. Get healthy. Flirt later. 

“ _Actually_.” He flinched as his voice grated in his ears. He swallowed, again lowering his tone to hide the soreness of his throat as he rested his elbows on the counter. “I came for your ah--” He flicked his eyes up to the menu overhead, briefly lowering his shades to squint at the wiggling letters. “Chicken Chili a la Cluck.” 

A spark of recognition flashed in the Angel’s eyes. “Ah, you are under the weather?”

“Wha--NO!” Shoot. Was it that obvious? “No, _ma’am!”_ His voice cracked as Remy jerked his hand up in the scout salute. “On my honor it's for a….” He trailed off. Well that was a pretty pickle. How the blazes could he lie if he was promising on his honor? 

The man crossed his arms the faintest of smiles appearing on his lips. “Let me guess? A friend?” 

Was that excuse used a lot then? He shrugged, shivering as a chill ran down his back. Geez, Grandma had cranked the AC up a little too high now. The place was going to freeze over any second. “I just wanted a taste of home-made soup is all.” He managed, rubbing his arms. “To go.” 

Handsome remained silent, seemingly staring straight into his soul, bright blue eyes analyzing him like a hawk about to swoop down upon a rabbit.

Geez. He was no rabbit! Remy fixed a smile on his face, ignoring how his gums ached. Don’t show weakness. Not in front of his peers. He was _fine._ He totally didn’t feel like his knees were going to buckle at any second. Not at all. He could hold it together for a few minutes longer.

Abruptly the man nodded, releasing Remy from his analyzing stare as he pushed his glasses up so that the glare of the lights overhead on the lenses hid his eyes.

A pity. He could stare into those glorious eyes all day long.

“Of course, Total is $4.78 for the half size.”

Perfect. He only had a five anyways. “Ah, Sugarbee, truly you are an angel to provide me with such an affordable price for homemade goodness.” He purred, shifting slightly to fish out his limp wallet from his back pocket. This soup better be divine. If he kept up this conversation much longer his throat truly would catch fire. 

The man raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. “I am not the one to thank for deciding prices, sir.” 

Sure sure. Grandma was the one who did, sweet soul that she was, making things affordable for all her poor adopted college children. 

“I’m sure if such an angelic being such as yourself set the prices then they would be even more heavenly.” Remy swallowed wishing the soup already was in his grasp as he finally pulled out the crumpled bill, fingers betraying him by trembling. “Even so, you can keep the--” 

The Angel’s cool fingers brushed his own, feeling like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer’s day. Remy’s breath caught in his throat, hazy mind short-circuiting at the unexpected touch. How he wanted to take those hands and-- GET A GRIP REMY! “--change.” He choked out, dropping his hand to the counter before he did something even more stupid than pushing on the pull door. 

Smooth. Real smooth. Geez Gurl. Keep it together! 

But that didn’t stop his fingers from tingling, nor from the room suddenly feeling like a sauna. What had happened to the arctic temperatures freezing him two minutes ago? 

The man huffed, slipping the five into the till. “Your soup will be out momentarily, sir.” He said, dropping the coins into the nearby tip jar with an all too loud clink. “If you could step aside so I could help the next customer in line?” 

Remy glanced behind him, lowering his glasses. Internally he cursed as he took in the gaggle of people he could barely focus on. Shoot. When had they come in?! He usually was more aware of that sort of thing. 

“Relax, Specs.” Said the guy right behind him, wearing a simple red shirt that showed off nicely toned arms.

Specs? What an ugly nickname. The Angel behind him was far more than his glasses.

“I don’t mind the wait.” Red flashed a smile to Remy. “It’s not everyday I get to witness someone flirting with you.” 

Really? He had to have misheard that. “Who wouldn’t flirt with him?” Remy asked, casually straightening slowly enough that his vision wouldn’t tunnel. “Honeybee here is absolutely…” He gestured to give himself a chance to swallow back the agony rising in his throat. “Divine.” 

Red’s grass green eyes sparked with humor as he looked beyond Remy. “So I keep telling him.” 

“You tell me yes, and we both know you’re prone to drastic exaggeration.” His Angel stated, barely twitching as the chef rang the bell, placing a to-go bowl within range for ‘Specs’ to reach if he would simply turn around and grab Remy’s food. “Now are you going to order or are you just here to antagonize me at work again?” He asked. 

“Mmmm. Gurl. No. No.” Remy shook his head, whirling to fully face his cadentic Angel and promptly regretted it, placing a hand on the counter as his knees almost buckled. Hold on. Hold on. He was _fine._ “Ah--” He forced a smile to his face, fighting to see through his darkening shades, to look into those wondrous eyes. “Red here---no---doesn’t lie. You are an….an….ange--” The words suddenly felt heavy on his tongue as the diner tilted, the pressure of the cool marble top fading from his fingers as he fell backwards. 

“HEY!”

A band of ice wrapped around his wrist, jerking Remy upwards. His eyes fluttered open enough to see his angel lunging over the counter, one hand holding his, the other clenching onto his jacket, saving his head from hitting the tile floor.

Well how about that? 

“You…caught me.” He whispered in stunned disbelief as his Angel’s bright blue eyes seemed to fill his entire world before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December Drabbles Day 20

“You’re sure you--”

An exasperated sigh sounded near Remy’s ears, a jarring dissonance from the murmuring waves beating against the shore, the noisy chatter abruptly cutting off with the slamming of a door somewhere in the distance as Remy gently floated back to consciousness, becoming more and more aware that he must be on some sort of rocking boat. A very cool, soft, rocking boat. 

He couldn’t decide if that was a nice feeling. Being on a boat. While the coolness pressed against him was nice...his stomach was definitely against the back and forth motion. 

“He’s not that heavy, Roman, I got him.” Came the cadentic voice that could only be from his Angel.

His Angel who had caught him when he fell. 

Remy’s eyes fluttered, his lips twisting into a slight smile. His Angel. Carrying him...up and up and up to….heaven? Yah. Heaven. Heaven would be so nice with his Angel there. 

“But shouldn’t we ha--”

Cool bands tightened protectively around Remy’s shoulders and legs as the rocking stopped. “....Probably, but I--”

A series of keys jangled together soon followed by the sound of a lock clicking open. “Because when people faint--” 

“I’ve received the lecture from Virgil before--I know what I should have-- I just---”

A soft chuckle from Red--no Roman? Roman. “I didn’t expect you, Dr. Serious, to react so to a little flirting.”

“Shut up.” 

“Pretty sure you would have left me on the ground.”

A soft growl. “Yes.”

“Wow.” Roman clicked his tongue as a door creaked open. “Harsh.” 

“You’re irritating, he’s sick. There’s a difference.” His Angel stated, shifting Remy in his arms as he moved forward.

Sick? Wait. There was something….something wrong. WRONG! Remy inhaled sharply, eyes flashing open only to shut just as quickly at the harsh light. NO NO NO! He wasn’t sick! He hadn’t just faint--Gah!! HIS IMAGE. All those PEOPLE had SEEN!

Remy bolted upright in his angel’s arms, refusing to let this wonderous man keep carrying him despite the tightening of his grip around Remy’s limbs. No sir! He squinted, catching a glimpse of a modest living room with a dark couch and large flatscreen as he struggled to stand on his own. He needed his feet back on the ground! He could salvage this. 

“Whoa! Whoa! Shades you can’t--” Red said, suddenly appearing in front of him, hands briefly resting on him to push him back into his angel’s arms. 

“ _I’m fine_!” Remy rasped out like a man with one foot in the grave as he shrugged off Roman’s staticy touch. “Just need some soup and--” His knees betrayed him by buckling just as he managed to get his feet to the ground.

“And rest.” His Angel said firmly, his grip on Remy’s arm the only reason why he hadn’t completely collapsed to the beige carpet like a melting snowman. “I cannot in good conscience let you leave when you are possibly concussed, obviously dehydrated, and in ill health judging by the pallor of your skin, the heat you’re giving off, and the redness of your eyes.”

His eyes? But his Angel shouldn’t be able to see-- _oh no._ Remy jerked, reaching up to touch his face. Oh no no no NO! “Where are my sunglasses?!” He demanded, whirling and placing a hand on his angel’s chest to balance himself, only for it to turn into clinging to the fabric for dear life as his vision went black.

A cool arm wrapped around his back, holding him close. “If you would allow me to take you to the couch to lie dow--”

Not without his sunglasses. Remy gritted his teeth, blinking his vision clear. “But I _need_ them!” He couldn’t let people _see_ how unwell he was. That he was...he was…

_Sick._

“Then Roman can grab them.” His Angel stated calmly as he rubbed Remy’s back. “You need to rest.” He added in a soothing undertone.

Oh, that was so not fair! Did this guy know how much power his voice held over him?! Remy rested his head against the man’s shirt, fighting back a soft whine as he closed his aching eyes against the bright lights. He shouldn’t give in like this. He needed---needed---

“I can?” Red asked. 

“They’re on the counter by his soup downstairs. Grab both please.” 

“But don’t you need--” 

“Roman. Go.” 

Red loudly sighed, slipping past them. “Okay okay. _Fine._ I’ll go play delivery boy.”

“Thank you.” 

“Whatever, Specs. Go take care of your heartthrob.” 

Heart...throb? Him? He must have misheard. Remy hardly felt like a heartthrob at the moment. A headthrob would be a far more accurate description. “I’m not sick.” He mumbled, tightening his grip on the angel’s shirt. “I’m _not._ ” 

His Angel hummed. “Given the symptoms and behavior you’ve exhibited since you walked in...I’m inclined to disagree.” 

Remy stiffened in his Angel’s arms. S-since he walked in? Had the entire diner realized he was--that he--from the _start?!_ He moaned, slumping further. “ _Great._ Just kill me now.” There went his image. How would he _ever_ recover from such a disaster?! If his fainting fit wasn’t already making the rounds on the Socials it would be soon. His life was definitely O-V-E-R over.

“That would defeat your original purpose of coming in to get better.” His Angel said, gently pushing against him to get him to take a step back, guiding him to the couch. “You will probably feel different after--”

“You toss me out the window?”

“--you rest.” He clicked his tongue. “Are you always this dramatic?” 

Was he always--? Remy laughed, though it sounded more like a hag’s squawk from how dry his throat was as he looked up into those radiant sapphire eyes. “Babe...you don’t even know.” 

His Angel raised a single eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m beginning to think I do.” 

Remy blinked. What was that supposed to mean? 

He shifted his grip to Remy’s elbows. “Can you sit?” 

Remy glanced over his shoulder to the brown couch now right behind him that had no right looking as soft and comfortable as it did. Far softer than the wooden plank masquerading as a couch in his own apartment. “Do I have a choice?” 

“Of course you do. Though I do not believe the floor would be as comfortable.”

Harsh. “Why would I--”

His Angel exhaled and moved. Before Remy could do more than yelp, he found himself laying down on the couch before his brain could process just how he’d laid down. The man called Specs knelt, tugging at Remy’s shoes, pulling them off. “Judging from the way you're shivering, I highly doubt you’d make it to the street before collapsing if you tried to leave now. Hence. The couch would be your best option as a place to rest.” 

But he couldn’t afford to rest! Remy shoved himself up onto one elbow, blinking away the way his vision tunneled from that simple effort. “I can’t just lay here, Angel!” He complained. “There’s places I have to be!” 

“Places filled with people who will probably appreciate your absence because you wouldn’t be risking getting them sick.” He stated, placing Remy’s shoes on the floor. 

Okay...he probably had a point there. But his image! “But I _need_ to--”

“Rest.” His Angel looked up, an odd shining gleam in his sapphire eyes as he straightened, the light behind him shining like a halo around his head as he gently pushed Remy back down onto a pillow that had no right to be so soft and fluffy, and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch over him before Remy could protest. “You will help no one as you are, not even yourself. So rest.” He urged, his voice soft and soothing to Remy’s ears. “Rest and Recover.” 

He’d never--no one had ever---”Why do you _care_ so much?” He whispered, leaning into his angel’s touch as he rested a cool hand on his burning forehead. “I’m just a--” _Nobody._ This guy had no reason to care about a complete stranger. Under normal circumstances Remy was sure he’d be forgotten within the hour of him leaving the shop. And yet--

His heart skipped a beat as his Angel exhaled, adjusting his glasses as he shook his head. “You have greater worth than you realize.” He said softly, brushing strands of Remy’s hair out of his face.

Ha. Great worth? Him? Hardly. He--he hadn’t---Remy blinked, frowning as his vision blurred, making it appear as if actual wings were spreading out behind his Angel. 

That wasn’t possible though.

Angels weren’t real. 

“You--” He struggled to form words, to keep his eyes open as a wave of exhaustion flowed through him, demanding he rest. 

His Angel leaned in, adjusting the blanket with his other hand. “Not everyone can call for me and expect my help.” Cool fingers moved down his cheek. “ And yet--” 

Despite himself Remy relaxed at the gentle touch, his eyes drifting shut as his mind slipped into the peaceful rest of dreamless sleep, his Angel’s words echoing in his thoughts.

“You’ve done just that, Remy, by appointing me to be your Guardian.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December Drabbles Day 23.

The scraping of a chair somewhere nearby was what drew Remy out the warm embrace of unconsciousness. He stirred, eyelids fluttering as an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“I didn’t think Lo was allowed to bring his science experiments home.” 

There was a soft exhale, the sound of paper rustling as a book was closed. “He was a customer, Janus. I didn’t create him, he fainted down below and I brought him up here.” 

_That voice._

Remy frowned, turning his head, a damp cloth slipping down to rest by his nose as he strained to hear. To remember.

_How did he know that wonderful cadentic voice?_

“Ha!” 

Remy flinched at the unexpected laugh, eyes flashing open as he pushed himself upright, his arm trembling from the movement, the blanket covering him falling to his waist. Where? He looked around, pausing as he found a bowl of soup with steam still rising from it on the coffee table near him with a tall clear glass of what could only be water right next to it. 

He grimaced, throat feeling like burning sandpaper as he swung his feet to the carpet so he could reach the glass. Still cold. How had---He shook his head, raising the glass to his dry lips. The relief to his throat was instantaneous. 

Wherever he’d ended up it definitely hadn’t been to a party. That sort of hangover felt much different than this.

“Oh, he fainted alright!” The louder voice--Red...why did it make him think of Red? continued as Remy lowered the glass back to the table. “Right into your arms like a damsel in distress. It was a wonderful sight to behold, Specs.” 

Specs. An ugly nickname. It wasn’t right for--for? Remy twisted, searching the empty living room as he staggered to his feet, hissing softly as his vision tunneled. Wherever he was he needed to leave. Now! Before his image was ruined--before he--

_He already had._

Remy froze, memory rushing back as a long suffering sigh, like an angelic chorus sounded from what could only be the kitchen. “It didn’t happen like that, Roman.”

_His Angel._

“Soo...you kidnapped him from the Cafe.” Janus stated. 

His Angel...also now known as this ‘Lo’ groaned as a thunk sounded on a wooden surface. “I. Did. Not.” came the muffled retort. “He’s not a prisoner.” 

“Reeeeally~?” Red--Roman? Clicked his tongue. “Didn’t the guy _try_ to leave before you stopped him?”

Oh yes. He distinctly remembered that. Remy glanced to his wrists, before frowning down at his socked feet and the shoes neatly lined up nearby. But...if he was a prisoner--his captor--his Angel was doing a bad job of it. Leaving him untied and unsupervised and free to leave whenever.

Like now.

Scooping up his shoes, Remy tiptoed for the door, ignoring how the floor seemed to sway under his feet. 

“If he _tried_ to leave, Then pray tell me, Lo. _Why_ is he still _here?_ ” The one called Janus demanded. “If it had been any other human you’d have called an ambulance and washed your lily white wings of them.” 

Remy paused, hand on the door knob to freedom. _Wings?_ Wait. Hadn’t---hadn’t this Lo mentioned something about--about---being his--

_Guardian._

He licked his chapped lips, turning to look at the other doorway where the other three were hidden from view, blood pounding in his ears. 

Angels weren’t real.

And if they were--they certainly couldn’t be working in a quaint grandma cafe! Shouldn’t they be off like---bringing messages of peace and saving the world from global warming or something? 

There was a rumble, barely audible to Remy’s ears.

“Take two, Lomageddon. We didn’t hear that.” Roman said. 

There was another soft thunk. “I said. He _called_ me.”

Come again?

There was a scoff from the kitchen. “I thought you were...what is that lovely phrase? “ _Taking a Break?_ Having a little _Self Care_ time from your Guardian responsibilities? _”_

“Oh you’re one to talk.” Lo hissed. “Neither of you would exactly be here either if _you_ had followed guidelines!” 

Remy let out a slow breath as he slowly placed his shoes back on the ground, cursing under his breath as curiosity got the better of him. Were--were these guys--actually claiming to be _angels?_

He had to see it to believe it.

On silent feet, he crept forward to the entryway of what he guessed was the kitchen.

“He’s--well he’s gotta point Deecepticon.” Roman remarked, his tone slightly more subdued.

Janus scoffed and Remy could practically feel this unknown third guy rolling his eyes. “Please. Neither one of us are exactly Class A examples like Lo here is for _following the rules._ And you, Roman,” He crooned the name. “Have been worth every single broken rule in the book.” 

Remy peered around the corner in time to see Red blush full scarlet as the mysterious third guy, Janus, reached out his gloved hands holding tight to Roman’s as a slight glowing haze like a mirage in the desert shimmered around them. 

He squinted, struggling to focus on what he was seeing. It almost--it almost looked like there were...wings. Remy rolled his shoulders in response, glancing to the third party member who had his head buried in his arms.

_His Angel._

His Angel who also had that odd...shimmer….Remy’s heart skipped a beat as Lo shifted like he was gonna raise his head and abruptly pulled back out of sight, hissing under his breath as his vision blurred.

Nope nope nope.

He scrubbed at his eyes as he stumbled-- _darted_ \--over to his shoes, scooping them up as he rushed to the front door. He could figure out exactly what he’d just seen and heard later when his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed full of cotton. Where he wasn’t feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Where he--

“Remy?”

He shivered at the cadentic tone of his Angel rang in his ears, hand freezing on the door knob leading to his freedom. “Don’t.” He said, refusing to turn around, glad that for once his voice cooperated. He didn’t want a repeat of earli--yesterday--what _time_ was it?! Regardless. He needed to get out of here. 

“Oh. He is stubborn.” Janus remarked from somewhere behind. “Didn’t you say--”

“He did say.” Red--Roman chuckled. “Out for the next twelve hours, Lo, and what? It’s been maybe four?” 

The hairs on the back of Remy’s neck rose. Lo had tried to keep him asleep for twelve hours?! HOW--No. No. Leave. Leave this audience that regrettably already knew he was... _sick._ But if he could just--He jerked at the door, growling under his breath when it refused to open. Could his Angel actually stop doors from working?! It was--

A soft sigh sounded as a hand reached around him to unlock the deadbolt.

Oh. Right. Locks exist. 

“You should be resting more you know. Your fever’s hardly gone down.” 

Remy flinched, grip tightening on his shoes. He knew that. He could _feel_ how bad he felt. He just--

“But if you stay away from 32nd street, you should make it home without issue.” 

Wait. “What? _”_ How did he know that?! Remy frowned, finding himself turning to look into the shining sapphires of his Angel’s eyes before he could stop himself. “You’re actually letting me leave this time? Not gonna stop me?” 

Could it really be so easy? Wasn’t he going to use his fellow cohorts hovering by the kitchen to subdue him again? Make him fall asleep? 

Lo raised an eyebrow, holding out Remy’s sunglasses in his other hand. “Do you want me to, Remy?” 

“No.” He snatched his sunglasses back, relaxing a little as he slipped them over his eyes. “Didn’t the first time either, Sugarbee, and _that_ turned out with me laid out like one of your French girls on your couch.” 

Roman snorted, crossing his arms. “Hardly, he did keep your clothes on.” 

Not. The. Point. 

“Ignore him.” His Angel said, shooting the other two a look. 

Gladly. He pulled open the door, quickly slipping out into the hallway. “Avoid 32nd street you say--” He cut off, and whirled back to Lo, ignoring how his vision swam a bit too much after that little maneuver, favoring jabbing a finger in the general direction of his Angel instead. “How do you _know_ where I live!” He demanded. “Or even my _name?!”_ He didn’t remember telling his angel who he was, but that was the _second_ time he’d used it since he’d woken up.

Another scoff sounded from inside the apartment.

Lo blinked, raising an eyebrow as he held out a steaming to-go cup of soup out to Remy. 

When had he grabbed that? His Angel had only been holding his sunglasses--of course. It was probably some sort of divine angely magic. 

Or it was like the deadbolt and he just hadn’t noticed--GAH. This was too confusing on a feverish mind.

Not that he was feverish--or sick. No, he was _fine._

Until he found out what the Socials were saying about him freaking _fainting_ in public when he got home that is. But he could pretend for now.

“I know from your driver’s license.” Lo said, with a shrug. “I checked it when you...fainted.” 

Oh that made sense- _-wait_. Remy scoffed, ignoring the burning in his throat and the grumbling of his stomach as he took another step back away from his Angel and the soup in his hand. “Does that excuse actually work?” 

The smile was faint, barely a twitch of his lips. “Most of the time.”

“Seriously? In a _college_ town? Where practically _everyone_ is from out of state?” 

Lo chuckled, a low sound that sent Remy’s heart racing as his Angel leaned against the door frame in an obvious attempt to appear casual even though Remy could see the tension in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes. “Most people don’t ask how I know, actually.” 

Oh. Well all things considered, the license excuse was believable. Just not for him.

“And you’re letting me leave now. Just like that?” He said, taking a couple more steps backwards down the hallway to prove his point.

A muscle in his Angel’s jaw twitched. 

Remy smirked, hoping Lo couldn’t hear how hard his heart was pounding. “ _You_ don’t want me to leave.”

“You are visibly unwell, Remy.” He said softly, crossing his arms. “I would prefer you stay here until you are better.” His bright eyes seemed to stare straight through his sunglasses and right down into the depths of Remy’s soul like he actually cared about his well being.

Ha. 

Nope. No more Jedi mind tricks here. Remy shook his head, forcing himself to turn fully away, ignoring the prickling sensation of his Angel’s eyes on his back. “Thanks. But No.” He called over his shoulder as he made a beeline for the nearest exit before his Angel could say one word more to convince him otherwise. 

He’d be fine.


End file.
